


Tumbling Down

by kkscatnip (autohaptic)



Series: Bonds That Tie [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dream Sex, Extremely Underage, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, POV Third Person Limited, Present Tense, Telepathic Bond, Underage Masturbation, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wet Dream, soulbond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:11:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autohaptic/pseuds/kkscatnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Oh, smother a kiss or be drowned in blissful confusion.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tumbling Down

Jason's days tend to start with Alfred.

He comes in and ties back Jason's dark maroon (he knows there's probably a fancy word for that color, but hasn't learned it yet) curtains at seven fucking AM and delivers some quip about beginning the day. Sometimes Jason does more than groan and bury his head in the pillow, and this is one of those mornings. "If the best part of the day is the morning, Alfie, I... fuck, I don't even know, but it shouldn't be." 

"Many things shouldn't be, young master. Unfortunately, we may only work with what is and what is not." 

"Seven ai--is so very _not_ a civilized time to wake up." 

"Seven is the time Master Bruce set for you to be awakened, which makes it acceptable. What is unacceptable is for one to face the day without nourishment; your breakfast will be ready when you've finished your shower." 

That’s not Alfie telling Jason to do it, so Jason just grunts and rolls onto his side. "Thanks, Alfie." Showers are just about the only way he can wake up, since Bruce decreed that Jason doesn't need caffeine at this time. 

Sometimes--especially this morning, given the _many things shouldn't be_ \--he wonders what Alfred thinks of the bond. Obviously Jason can't help it, and Bruce wants to be able to help it, but deep down, he can't either. But that doesn't mean that Alfred has to like the idea of Jason and Bruce doing the horizontal mambo. It hasn't happened yet, but it seems like everyone's accepted that it will, sooner or later. Except for Bruce, maybe.

Jason thinks about asking sometimes, except he's pretty sure that Alfred will just tell him what he wants to hear. The fact that Jason has no idea what he wants to hear doesn't in any way mean Alfred doesn't, of course, and it just makes him more uncomfortable with asking.

With a sigh, Jason rolls to the edge of the bed and climbs out. There's just something really inherently nice about sleeping in a bed so big that he can sprawl diagonally with his arms all the way out and still not touch the edges. Jason doesn't roll around a lot when he sleeps--he's too light a sleeper for that--but the thought that there's room if he somehow magically starts rolling around is comforting. 

And then there's the shower. Jason grins to himself and turns his attention to the Bruce-in-his-head. The wasps are only mildly buzzy, not stingy, which means Bruce isn't trying too hard to block out Jason. But Bruce _is_ mildly freaked out about something and... Jason's mouth drops open. He's also not at home. That way, and not close either, which probably means he's in Gotham.

Early meeting at WE, most likely. Except meetings don't freak Bruce out. Nothing freaks Bruce out, except, well... Jason. 

Which just means something is going on. Alfred hasn't told Jason when breakfast would be ready since the first day, and this is, what, the fourth? The smell of eggs drifting in from the kitchen is suddenly a lot less appetizing.

But the shower looks about a thousand times better.

*

Jason's too distracted thinking about what else is waiting for him with breakfast to take a long time in the shower. Pretty much he takes care of his morning wood and soaps down, rises off, and he's done. He doesn't bother doing anything with his hair or using the pumice stone or any of the fancy shit that Alfred brought him. (He figures about half of it is from Bruce.)

As a result, he's sitting in the little side dining room--Alfred's used that one for him ever since Jason told him that the big one makes him feel like he's in _church_ \--before Alfred has the breakfast service laid out completely. Jason wants to offer to help really fucking badly, but when he hesitates in front of his chair, Alfred shakes his head once, and Jason gets the message.

This is Alfred's job; interference would be rude.

So Jason just sits down, crosses his arms over his chest, and leans back in his chair while he waits for Alfred to set up. Alfred says nothing, of course--if he can say nothing in the early morning when Jason's pounding on Bruce's door, yelling sexual suggestions, this can't be hard at all--and Jason's pretty sure it only feels like an eternity before Alfred steps away. 

On the plate there's this huge, delicious-looking omelet with what smells like sausage and spinach and onions and peppers and cheese and... fuck, Jason's stomach growls and reminds him that he skipped his snacks yesterday in an attempt to try and see if his body had gotten to the point of craving them yet.

Answer: yes. 

"Looks amazing, Alfie," Jason says, and digs in. 

If Bruce is freaked out, probably whatever Alfred's going to tell Jason will ruin his appetite. Food like this is too delicious to waste on Bruce being a dick. 

When Jason finally pushes his plate away, he empties his entire glass of milk, sits back, and burps. 

"Four point seven," Alfred says mildly.

"But it had the roll to it!" Jason protests, shaking his head. Back on the streets, everyone said he could do six-pointers no trouble, but Alfred's just hard to please. "That should be at least a five." 

"Very well, sir." Alfred sounds like he's placating a child. "That belch is worth five points." 

They still haven't worked out a reward system--Jason can do it as long as nobody but Alfred is around to hear, and he doesn't try to not muffle his burps at other times--but Jason feels happy to have at least hit a five. Even if it's a five by coercion. "Good." He pauses, looks Alfred right in the eye. Remembers his mom telling him that looking people in the eye is always worth it. "So, something's up, isn't it?" 

Alfred doesn't so much as twitch. "If by _up_ you mean I have news for you--yes." 

Jason tries not to look too eager, but he can't do the face-control-y thing as good as Bruce and Alfred. Not when he's excited, anyway. "And you're gonna make me drag it out of you piece by piece, aren't you?" 

"Master Bruce has determined that you are ready to begin a basic training regimen."

Before he can stop himself, Jason's up on his chair, fist above his head. "Yes! I knew he'd let me train with him sooner or later!" 

Alfred clears his throat. Jason climbs down, feeling a little embarrassed, but far too excited that he's finally, finally, finally going to get to start doing some real training. No more of this running around the grounds bullshit! 

"I would like to reiterate the word basic, Master Jason. I will be your trainer, until such a time that Master Bruce has decided that he may train you without putting undue stress on your body." 

Oh. Alfred totally knows about all of those naps that Jason's had in the woods and meadow and stuff. 

Wait, Bruce isn't going to train him? He's going to let Alfred do it? And not even going to tell Jason himself? And just going to, to be _gone_ so that Jason can't even... do anything. All he can do is collapse back down into the seat, feeling like he's been hit in the back of the head with a brick or something--dazed, a little dizzy. 

And then a little angry, when he looks at Alfred, who looks like he was expecting more out of Jason's reaction. 

"Is he going to be here?" Jason asks. He wants to ramble and talk and be nervous but he feels just. It's hard to be angry at Alfred. Alfred's _good_ and Bruce's reason for not training Jason yet makes sense--no bullshit training with Bruce, at least--but Bruce isn't here right now, and shouldn't he at least supervise?

There are wasps in Jason's head, and they're stinging him. Bruce trying to not let anything through the bond, then.

Alfred doesn't look away from Jason's eyes. "I don't believe so, Master Jason. Lucius Fox--" 

"Why _not_ ," Jason all but shouts, hands curling into fists. 

"Lucius Fox has requested that Master Bruce be at the Wayne Foundation all day today; there is the matter of a site visit from a major donor, and a meeting afterward that may change the focus of their funding." 

He might as well say, _Because the world doesn't revolve around you, Jason_. But the fact that he doesn't means that Jason can't really argue. Not without coming off like a child, and okay, he is a child, but he tries not to do things that remind Bruce and Alfred that he is. "Sorry," he mumbles, looking down at his empty plate. 

"Never fear, Master Jason. I am sure he will supervise at his earliest convenience. Now, there is appropriate workout attire waiting for you in the alcove with your name on it. I expect you to be in the midst of jogging five laps around the cave at a pace which is easy for you to maintain when I arrive. Master Bruce has left basic warm-up and cool-down instructions on the console." 

That answers Jason's question about when they're going to get started, he supposes. He meets Alfred's eyes again, nods once, and says, louder than the _sorry_ but not by much, "Thanks, Alfie." 

"You are ever welcome, Master Jason."

*

Alfred trains the shit out of Jason. He gives him time to rest and all--though no naps, just ten minutes rest here and ten minutes rest there--but it's pretty much non-stop from eight in the morning till six that night. If it's not physical training, it's studying and telling Alfred how the things he's learning are applicable to fighting crime. (Or, in most cases, Alfred telling Jason and Jason doing his best to remember.)

He doesn't have time, much less energy, to think about fucking with Bruce, though toward the end Jason is grateful for the lack of stinging in his mind the majority of the day and hopes for a few absent moments that he'll get to see Bruce tonight. 

But part of him hopes he doesn't--what if tonight Bruce wants to fuck, and all Jason can do is just lay there? Worst first time ever. Also, yeah, Jason bets it's really sexy for your bonded to pretty much fall asleep on you. Unexpected sleep, that is.

Anyway, once training is declared finished, Jason showers in the Cave showers. He doesn't even have enough energy to masturbate, though Alfred is gone by the time Jason gets out of the shower, so the only option is stairs. There's gotta be a faster way, but not for him, apparently. 

Training, he reminds himself. Training.

Jason mostly just counts it as a win that he makes it to bed by eight, closes his eyes, and when he wakes up, it's to Alfred flinging back the dark maroon curtains again.

He checks for Bruce first, this time, waving off Alfred's morning quip. Gone, but farther away than Gotham. That way, which is kind of toward Gotham and kind of not in the part of Gotham Bruce goes during the day. Or at least not so far. 

The wasps buzz when Jason tries to zero in on what Bruce is feeling, which is all the evidence Jason needs.

At breakfast, Jason asks Alfred, "So what's Bruce's excuse today?" 

"Away on Justice League business, young master. He bade me tell you he's likely to be gone for more than two days but fewer than five." 

Right. Because it totally makes sense to know, going in, how long a situation is going to take to clear up. Or maybe it does; Jason doesn't know jack shit about this stuff. And honestly? 

If Alfred trains Jason again today the way he did yesterday, Jason's not going to have enough spare energy to be horny--his default state--much less angry.

*

Bruce envelops Jason completely, or at least partway, covering him as he presses Jason down against the bed from behind. He whispers against Jason's neck as he pushes inside--it hurts, but Jason likes it when it hurts, so he's not going to complain. 

Especially not when all Bruce is saying is this wet, half-snarled repetition of Jason's name. And with his teeth grazing Jason's neck every so often, like he wants to bite down and hold on. 

Jason wants him to, and just as Bruce bottoms out, he does. Bites down, shakes Jason a little. Shakes above him, and shakes him, and oh fuck, he's reaching for Jason's cock. Jason does his best to stop Bruce, his best to keep those big, amazing hands away but the second Bruce squeezes Jason comes. 

It's like passing out, like--like dying and being reborn and then Bruce starts fucking him, and fucking him, and fucking him. Pulling Jason's back against his chest and lifting him up and just. Letting Jason sink even further onto Bruce's dick, and it's most definitely the best sex he's ever had because he can feel Bruce's pleasure too, like this whirlwind in his head. His own is somewhere in the back of Bruce's mind, and that's the only reason he can feel it: because his pleasure is in Bruce's head. 

He comes again. A few times, whatever. He doesn't keep count. Not with Bruce fucking him, and the things Bruce is feeling, about Jason being _his_ and how badly he wants to keep Jason and how he wants Jason to fight by his side as Robin and.

Fuck, everything. 

It feels like he passes out when Bruce comes--screaming, Bruce comes screaming and Jason passes out, but really, he's just waking up. 

And "wet spot" doesn't quite cover it. There's a wet pool, and it's all over Jason from chest to knees--somehow he squirmed halfway out of his pajama bottoms--and over the sheets and just. Everywhere. It's gotta be every bit of spunk that his balls, which kind of are a little sore, could make.

Fuck.

And then Jason hears, like an echo, an apology. From Bruce.

He wants to slam anger back across the bond, but he's too wrung out. Instead he towels himself off with the drier parts of his PJs, crawls to the foot of the bed and curls up naked, making a burrito of himself using the comforter. 

Duvet, whatever.

Bruce's wasps don't make a sound before Jason manages to fall back asleep.

*

Every night the wet dreams get more intense (yes, that's possible, and Jason's just getting used to being careful with his nuts and he tries not to think about how the new sheets get on his bed every night) and every day training gets easier.

On the fourth day of training, the third day of Bruce being away on Justice League bullshit which is probably just Bruce like, upgrading their systems or something, Jason's running along at much faster than he did the first day--among the clothes, there was a rather sophisticated (expensive) stopwatch Jason uses to keep track of his lap time--and finding that he's having more than enough energy to be horny and angry at the same time. 

He jacked off this morning in the shower and felt the brush of Bruce's attention, and then wasps, nothing but those goddamned wasps. He got angry, and he's been angry since. 

By the time Alfred has Jason start running relays that evening, it's down to a low boil. Fucking Bruce. Fucking Bruce. One-two, three, in Jason's head. Fucking Bruce. Fucking Bruce. Like a mantra. 

Alfred hasn't said a word about how angry Jason obviously is. He isn't likely to say a word.

It makes Jason wonder if Bruce called him and told him that he plans on coming home tonight.

It makes Jason hope that Bruce does, because really, he'd like to just punch Bruce in the face right now. Alfred's taught him how to throw a proper punch, and he's now practiced enough at taping his hands to be able to do it alone. 

Punching Bruce would feel good. Satisfying. And Jason knows that Bruce won't bother with the fucking wasps, because Jason will be right there in front of him. He only ever does that when he's thinking dirty thoughts about Jason, pretty much. So. 

Fucking Bruce. Fucking Bruce. Fucking Bruce. That's fifty. 

And it's six. Alfred doesn't have to tell Jason that training is over, or that he needs to do some cool-down jogging and stretches. Jason does all of it without thinking, and Alfred goes up the stairs. 

Nobody but him in the shower, so Jason jacks off and thinks nothing but pure anger and vitriol at Bruce, angry sex and what he imagines Bruce's blood tastes like, and hopes that his feelings are at least as annoying as the buzzy goddamned wasps. Who aren't stinging him, which means Bruce isn't ignoring Jason entirely.

*

The next day, the wasps start up around one, which probably means that Bruce is on his way home. 

An hour later, they get strong enough that Jason ends up doubled over in the middle of the third yoga session of the day--Alfred likes to sprinkle in three twenty-minute sessions, to keep Jason from being so tense, because apparently he just never learned to relax before. Though, if they're at three at two PM, it's a second clue Jason didn't really need. Not with the wasps making him gasp for breath and feel like his skin is burning off from all the stings. 

And then Bruce is there, and the wasps stinging him are gone. 

Jason's breathless at the sight of him, his dick suddenly rock-hard, but he's still feeling wrung out considering the after-effects of being stung a million fucking times. Not real, he reminds his body, but his body burns and throbs. 

There's a line between Bruce's brows, like he doesn't understand what's going on. Why Jason isn't just over-fucking-joyed to see him. Or maybe why Jason is in such pain, though he shouldn't be wondering about that; he knows Jason feels pain when Bruce shoves the bond away, blocks it off. He _has_ to know.

And the thing is: he is really fucking happy to see Bruce. There's a part of him that's singing and dancing, but most of him is still angry. Now more than ever. But-- "You didn't have to do that," Jason grinds out.

"I didn't realize..." Bruce trails off, and clears his throat. Good he's not going to fucking pretend he doesn't know, because Jason will verbally rip him a new one for that. "I apologize. Is it this bad often?" 

Jason laughs. It's a little more breathless and less full of _fuck you_ than he wants it to be, but Bruce gets the point, because by the time Jason lets the laughter trail off, his lips are pressed into a thin line. Good. Jason gives him a nasty grin. "It's like--like wasp stings. Sometimes the wasps are more angry." 

Bruce frowns. "That shouldn't happen." 

"'Many things shouldn't be'," Jason quotes at him, still too upset to do even a passable Alfred impression. Especially when Alfred is standing there looking at him. Jason gives him a smile that he hopes doesn't looked as pained as he feels. "We can only deal with what is and isn't, right, Alfie?" 

Alfred inclines his head slightly, looking like he's trying very, very hard not to smile. 

Bruce, on the other hand, is still frowning. "I am going to have to conduct a bit more research. Excuse me, please." 

"No," Jason growls. "No, I won't fucking excuse you. You--you abandon me for three nights of those--those goddamn _dreams_. And then you come back and it's like I'm suddenly being tossed in a roaring fire and all you say is 'I apologize' and that you're going to have to do some research? No, fuck you. Fuck _you_. You might get excused by some shithead with more forgiveness than sense, but me? No. You're not excused. Just go; it's not like I can actually _stop_ you." 

Bruce just looks at Jason, but it's not the usual expression. This one is just--fuck, Jason's having trouble putting a name on that expression with it being so mixed, but when he reaches for Bruce in his head he knows what it is: regret and confusion and feeling like he's just been unforgivably blind.

And no wasps. Not even a hint of buzzing, when this was exactly the kind of shit that would inspire buzzing in the past: Jason not getting how Bruce is feeling and trying to reach out so he can just understand.

Jason takes a few deep breaths. One of them is almost a sob. He looks at Alfred, who nods definitively. Right, no reason to stay down here, then. Jason jogs up the stairs, wishing his legs were long enough to take them two at a time. 

He strips off his sweaty clothes and feels tentatively for Bruce, who is humming with emotion but the wasps are still nowhere near when Jason turns on the shower and steps underneath the spray.

It's funny: even with the pain and the anger, his dick never did get soft. Not from that first moment he felt Bruce. It wasn't like that before.

And now when he soaps up his hands and steps into the corner, out of the spray, back to the cool tiles, he feels the weight of Bruce's attention. He wraps his fingers around his cock and doesn't hold back a whimper at how _right_ it feels to be doing this and knowing Bruce is watching. Not making the wasps buzz or sting or anything, but just. Paying attention. 

Jason's other hand rubs over his chest and he bites his lip as he pinches one of his nipples, with the pads of his slippery fingers at first and then, leaning harder against the wall, with his fingernails. The soap ensures that the flesh slides free before he does any real damage, and he can't help the shudder that goes through him at feeling Bruce's arousal, feeling Bruce's desire to do this. 

To taste him, before the water and soap wash away all of the sweat. To see if his teeth evoke the same response, the same roll of his hips and the way Jason's head goes back, as his fingernails do. 

Jason licks his lips unconsciously, hand moving faster as the one on his chest slips backward, sliding between the cheeks of his ass. He can't go very deep with nothing but soap, but he doesn't need deep or huge or anything. Just his middle finger pressed halfway inside is all it takes for Jason to start thrusting against his hand, gasping, groaning, and coming hard.

Hard enough that his descent to the floor is inevitable and kind of a controlled fall, besides. 

And Bruce is still there instead of the wasps. Jason kind of basks in his approval. It's warm, and wraps all the way around and inside of him. 

Either he feels really, really fucking guilty about hurting Jason, or those dreams meant a fuck of a lot more than Jason thought they would. Or, even more impossible: he's decided he wants to learn from his mistakes. 

In Jason's experience, the only time adults learn from their mistakes are at knife or gunpoint, and even then it's only temporary. He doesn't want to think about that, though. Instead he tries to concentrate on the warm fuzzies from Bruce. 

They feel nice, despite everything.

*

Dinner is typically at seven--reflecting Bruce's normal hours, Jason supposes--and Jason spends the time between the end of his shower and then curled up in bed with an English textbook. He kinda thinks English is pretty much a fuck up of a language (compared to, say, Spanish, which flows a lot better) but that might be why he likes it. 

Because even though it's fucked up, it's amazing and can do so many things and be twisted in different ways and stuff that he's really not eloquent enough to express properly yet. It's a fuck-up, but a beautiful and functional one, so he loves it as much as he's ever loved himself.

Alfred's training has also included beginning lessons meant to help Jason catch up to his age level in terms of classes whenever he ends up going to what will probably be some fancy-pants boys school Bruce wants to send him to. He figured out real fast how much Jason hated the tutors; he's always been able to teach himself, so he wants to do that, if he can.

It's not a bad way to kill three hours, really, though Jason will be honest: his eyes are beginning to cross by the time he looks up and sees that it's six-thirty. 

Bruce-in-Jason's-head feels resolute, for whatever reason.

It ends up being that he's not going to be joining Jason for dinner. No talking, no even seeing each other, because when Jason asks that Alfred move dinner downstairs, he says, "I have insistent instructions to serve your dinner here, young master." 

Fuck. Jason didn't _want_ to be proven right, damn it. "Can you at least let Bruce's get a little cold or something? He deserves it." 

Alfred's expression doesn't disagree, at least.

*

Bruce visits Jason when Jason's getting ready for bed, standing at the sink brushing his teeth and taking pleasure in the fact that he can do that. He has toothpaste, a toothbrush, and running water. Not to mention enough time to brush his teeth twice.

Sometimes the little things like this are the ones that remind Jason the most that he's totally not in Kansas anymore. Not that Jason has any problems with Oz. And, hey, the idea of Bruce as the man behind the curtain is so funny that Jason's laughing his ass off, toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth, when Bruce clears his throat.

Jason proceeds to swallow about half of the toothpaste in his mouth and cough the rest into the sink. Smooth, he thinks, and hates himself a little, and wishes Bruce didn't have such a light step. It's not right, given his size.

But it's hard to be upset after he's rinsed his mouth out, turned around, and Bruce gives him this look that is just so tender. Jason ends up walking over to Bruce without meaning to, looking up at him. He doesn’t dare do anything, because he might be a little crazy from the bond, but he'll never be so crazy that he tries to--tries to be an asshole about it. 

Despite the water, like, seconds ago, Jason's mouth feels dry now. Utterly dry. His dick is hard enough to make him a little dizzy. Or maybe that's just _Bruce_.

Then his expression shifts into something less tender and more guarded, more like the Bruce Jason knows.

Okay, that would be the south of Jason's heart beating again. Tender-looking Bruce is just so--so unreal. But this, he can deal with. "Yeah?" he manages. Bruce didn't come here to let Jason gaze longingly at him.

"According to an expert, I shouldn't have the ability to make myself not feel the bond." 

Well, _yeah_. Bonds are kind of meant to be felt. "And?" 

"And she is fairly sure that the wasps are a result of me forcing my mind to cut itself off from the bond. It is similar to the pain one might feel upon one's bonded becoming severely injured, or perhaps dying."

Oh. _Oh._ Jason licks his lips. His dick throbs a little. Bruce is looking him in the eye; he can't help it. And so close. He smells--so good. "So you're going to quit making me feel like you're dead?" 

One side of Bruce's mouth quirks. "It is too dangerous." 

Jason hears the bit that Bruce didn't say: _despite the benefits_. Not in his head or anything, but just. He knows it. The idea that Bruce feels like the wasps have any benefits is... no, he can't be too angry, not with Bruce so. So close. "I want to touch you." 

No reaction; Bruce expects this, Jason guesses.

"I want--I want to. To taste you, too. I want you to hug me and--" No, this is too hard. He can't say more. Jason's face is bright red, and his dick's making a surprisingly noticeable little dark spot on the front of his silk pajama pants. 

The thing is, even though Jason can _feel_ how much Bruce wants it too, feel the way Jason's words make Bruce's want flare bright and amazing, he can also _see_ Bruce saying no. With his body language, leaning away a little, and the way his face closes off and his expression goes blank and.

Jason can't face it. He scoots out of the bathroom and all but dives into bed and pulls the blankets over his head. He's shaking, gasping in little breaths, not quite crying.

And his stupid cock is still hard, still leaking because the smell of Bruce is all in Jason's head. 

"I won't block out the bond anymore," Bruce says the words like a vow, and then leaves. 

It's only kind of a win that Jason doesn't start crying until he hears Bruce shut the door behind him, because he can't block Bruce out. He can't make Bruce feel the wasps, so Bruce knows what Jason's doing. What he's feeling. 

And he's walking the other way anyway. 

Jason's beginning to believe that maybe this soul bond stuff isn't worth it, and he can understand why there are so many movies that start with an unlikely soul bond and then the two people trying to get as far away from each other as they can.


End file.
